


The Caged Bird

by Lotornomiko



Category: Valkyrie Profile Series, Valkyrie Profile: Lenneth
Genre: Dark fic, F/M, Kidnapping, Non-Consensual, Obsession
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-02
Updated: 2015-07-02
Packaged: 2018-04-07 09:18:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4257888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lotornomiko/pseuds/Lotornomiko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Failing to neutralize her enemy is about to prove Lenneth's greatest mistake, as Lezard makes his move, drawing her into his obsessed grasp. Dark fic warnings in place, Lezard Lenneth centric. Non Con Warnings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

There was always a chill permeating through his tower home, as though somewhere, a brick stone had not been set correctly. That architectural slight could have very well left the tiniest of cracks for the outside wind to creep through. Lezard didn't mind the cold. He never had. He found it invigorating, that sharp bite of frost refreshing where the heat was not. Too often had Lezard found the heat stifling, suffocating not only his ability to breathe but his ability to think. Heat promoted sluggishness, while the cold lent itself well to activity. Especially the kind of activities Lezard often indulged in.

The cold kept the bodies fresh. Kept decay's hands at bay. He despised when the bodies began to rot, the smell getting to him in a way few others of anything else could. It turned his stomach, but more than that, the smell served as a reminder. A reminder that he had once again run out of time where the bodies were concerned. 

It was delicate work, handling corpses. Care had to be taken, for the work could not be rushed. To rush would be to make mistakes, and Lezard was anything but sloppy. He'd exert the utmost of care, taking what he needed from the bodies then discarding the rest. It was easier to get rid of the bodies than to acquire them. Especially that of the elves. Nasty creatures, deplorable little puppets. He saw them as little more than tools, to be used as he saw fit. He cared not one whit about their feelings, their pitiable hopes and dreams. Saw them as just barely a step up from the monsters who lurked in their forests.

Thinking that way made it easy to use them. To kill them. Lezard was unaffected by their pleas, the screams that they let out. Just as he hadn't cared much about the humans he killed either. He saw it all as a much needed sacrifice, a means to an end. An end of Lezard's own design, with countless lives spent as mere stepping stones towards his goal.

Even those he knew of personally, weren't safe from his ambitions. His friends, his teacher, they all mattered little when it came to what Lezard desired. He never regretted those deaths. Never felt remorse for their passing and the part he had played in that. He simply moved on, learning and adjusting accordingly.

The data he gained was invaluable. He had spent a good two years perfecting his craft. His homunculi improved by leaps and bounds, bearing little resemblance to the creatures of those first days. No longer did Lezard need to piece together a mishmash of body parts. He could make do with just one. He had learned to cut the essence that animated the body, to remove the very soul that gave a person or elf life. Suck out the soul, and only a hollow shell remained, just waiting to be filled again.  
Reanimating the bodies, now that had proved much more difficult. It took an immense amount of power, as well as a vast knowledge. So much could go wrong, and had, Lezard ending up with a a few monsters on his hands. He took it all in stride. Killed the worst of the abominations, and put to work the rest. They guarded the lower levels of his tower, reduced to mere obstacles for any would be heroes.

His work seemed to invite a certain type. Adventure seekers and do gooders, hoping to make a name for themselves. Hoping for fame and fortune in stopping the mad man who was responsible for all those murders. Most times they never made it past the first floor of his tower, these so called heroes becoming food for his monsters. Those strong enough to survive his pets, and his traps, often found themselves at Lezard's mercy. He had little use for men, his interest lying elsewhere. But he killed them all the same, piecing them together to form new nightmares that would guard his tower from further invasion.

It wasn't just the occasional hero he was concerned about. An invasion WAS coming. His work couldn't be allowed to continue, not at the rate of lives that were being expended. Sooner rather than later, he himself would be remembered. And when that happened, Lezard would be dealt with. Or at least they'd try. Lezard would actually smirk at that thought, eyes gleaming behind the panes of his glasses. He looked forward to their attempts, wanting to see their hopes crushed as effortlessly as a bug under his foot.

But he wasn't over confidant. No, never that! He couldn't afford to be, not until the last of his plan was accomplished. That was still some way off. He was missing some vital piece, the last bit that would have everything click into place. Until he had that final piece, eternity would elude him. And that was almost as unacceptable as living out his life alone. Without HER.

Just conjuring her image to mind is enough to get Lezard to smile. It is genuine, and it is heartfelt, his expression one of longing. He vividly remembers her expressive eyes, the blue bright with her anger. That disdain of hers for him. Such an expression from her towards him makes him shiver in delight, making his cock grow tight with arousal. She's never had a kind word for him, never looked at him with anything except anger and judgment. She thinks him sick, a soul defiler, a depraved madman. And she's right.

It is for her that Lezard does what he does. That the killings have continued for all these years. Those bodies are a testament to his desire for her, their broken bones and spilt blood a love song that only she can hear. She is why he isolates himself, why he labors so extensively towards his goals. She is what he strives for, what he wants above all else. She is what he shall have, and not even the damning of his soul can save her.

It takes a supreme amount of effort for Lezard to calm himself from the direction his thoughts have taken. He is pleased that he has managed to restrain from letting slip a hysterical laugh. The time to gloat of his victory is almost near, not this minute but soon. Soon. If and only if he had done the incantation right. It was almost certain that Lezard had. He had seen the body's chest swell with it's first breath. Felt it's skin start to grow warm as the flush of life chased away death’s paleness. The body lived, of that he had no doubt. But what soul resided inside it? That was a question whose answer he waited on most impatiently.

This impatience grated on his nerves. It left him with boundless energy, translating into repetitive motion. He actually paced the halls of his tower. As though he could no longer remain still for any length of time. He checked on his projects, lesser experiments that served no other purpose save to satisfy his curiosity. Several times he had started to go to the body, intent on checking the results of his handiwork. Lezard would get as far as unlocking the door, before he talked himself out of entering the room. Better to wait. Better to give the incantation and the soul time to adjust to the vessel he had prepared.

His pacing would bring him to a nearby room, and there he would indulge in an often maligned, but not often ignored bad habit. He'd drink, Lezard pouring himself a stiff glass of rum. It was a strong, potent taste on his tongue, the liquid burning as it went down his throat. It did little to calm him, Lezard noting his hands were visibly trembling. Actually shaking with excitement. He tried to be stern with himself, knowing it would serve no one to get his hopes up for a potential disappointment. After all, he had no guarantee of his success. And he had been disappointed so nmany times before.

Perhaps it is the rum. Or perhaps it is the fact that he is so sure his victory is at hand. But Lezard can't keep his mind from wandering, from his thoughts traveling back to the disappointments he's suffered where she is concerned. There haven't been that many, but each one has left their mark on him. Each one is proof of her rejection. Lezard drinks his rum and broods, wondering, hoping tonight will be the turning point in a lifetime's worth of disappointments.

Thinking back on it is easy. Too easy. The first of her rejections had come the night he had killed his teacher and her husband. Their lifetime of love abruptly ending was the lure in which to bring his heart's desire to him. Lezard had had vessels prepared, ones he could now recognize to be imperfect compared to the body he has crafted just this last week. The bodies, regardless of their quality, were meant for her. A vessel to host her immortal soul. A vessel meant to bring her down from her lofty perch in the heavens. To make possible the love that he craved from her.

Deluded though he was said to be, Lezard was no fool. He well knew there was no way for him to hold a Goddess to him. Not so long as divinity sparked in her body. He had to make mortal of that which was divine, render her powerless and dependent on him. It hadn't gone the way he had planned. She had balked at his intentions, actually attacking him and the bodies he had made for her. Months of hard work ruined in an instant, with Lezard having nothing to show for it except a scintillating first introduction with his beloved.

The next meeting wouldn't be nearly as provoking. She was too well guarded, those two watch dogs of hers keeping a mistrustful eye on Lezard. Even as he labored to save her life, her very soul, he hadn't been allowed to do more than look at her. And once she was restored to something so much more than what she had once been, his beloved hadn't had one word of thanks to him. Hadn't even acknowledge him.

It was a snub, as cutting as any other. Lezard couldn't fail to be insulted, especially after all he had done for her. To be so ignored was bad enough, but to hear her wailing for another man? Some undeserving bastard who had wormed his way into her heart simply by chance? It was unforgivable! It was more than that, it was inconceivable! How had that other man done it? How had he stolen her out from under Lezard? What manner of trickery had he used? And how could she have fallen for it? His anger over this manifested in the fisting of the rum glass. It would actually start to splinter apart from the force he was using, though that sound did not come close to drawing him out of his rage. 

Lezard would never, ever understand how she could have given her heart to someone else. How she could have failed to recognize that he was the infinitely better choice, the only one who was truly devoted to her. He had killed for her. He had destroyed lives, and given her the power to rebuild the universe. And she had turned her back on him without even so much as a thank you.

Not that Lezard would ever be satisfied with just simple gratitude. He wanted it all from her. Everything she had to give and then some. And he would take it to. By force if need be. It was why he labored so hard to catch her. To snatch her away from everything she had ever known, from that man and the heavens that she called her home. 

Enough time had passed that she had probably forgotten all about Lezard's threat. Pity for her, pity for her followers. He hadn't wanted to wait. Hadn't wanted to be forgotten. But the homunculus had taken time to be perfected. Just as it had taken time to store up the power needed for the incantation. As impatient as he had become, Lezard could acknowledge some good had come from all that waiting. She, and the people that surrounded her, had let down their guard. It would be one of the last mistakes they would ever make.

They would lose. And not just their lives. Their very existence was in danger, their souls in jeopardy. Only she would be spared. Because no matter how angry Lezard was with her, he could never do any lasting harm to his beloved. He did after all love her. He even wanted to see her thrive, albeit while at his side. The ultimate in dreams? To have her come to accept and appreciate him back. To return his affection. It would take time for that to happen, but Lezard was determined that they would have all the time in the world. He'd wait out all of eternity if need be, to whittle down her resistance. One way or another, he'd make her love him. And if not him, then at least the things he would do to her. He was after all, a most accomplished lover when he cared to be. And she was definitely worthy of taking that effort.

Just the mere thought of the pleasures awaiting them both was enough to get Lezard to relax his hand. The rum glass was dangerously close to shattering completely. The drink actually spilled through the cracks. Lezard stared at the damaged glass as though it was some unrecognizable thing. And then he was throwing it, watching it shatter apart completely on the floor.

It was forgotten almost immediately when the screams sounded. Lezard sat up from his slouching position, eyes alight with a wicked delight. The voice was female, her screams ones of pure anguish. It seems his guest had finally awakened, and had done so in a most spectacular fashion. Those tortured screams held no words to them and yet they conveyed her emotion well. She was distraught, and judging by the crashes that followed, rampaging about the locked room. 

Lezard didn't immediately rise. He'd actually take the time to enjoy her torment, to let the melody of her fear and confusion play out in his ears. He had always liked the songs of birds best, and it had been Lezard's experience that the caged bird was the one who sang the sweetest song. And to Lezard, there was no sweeter song than the screams he was hearing.

Smiling in a manner that he considered to be most pleasant, but was actually quite predatory, Lezard stood. His trapped quarry continue to wail, her disorientation apparent in that sound. It made him wonder if soul transfusion HURT, or if she couldn't simply stand the lessened senses of her all too mortal body. Lezard actually had quite a few questions to ask her, as curious about her transformation as he was eager to be with her. The question was, which was stronger?

He thought he had his answer the instant Lezard entered the room. He had never forgotten how lovely she was, and indeed he had labored for days to make her new body resemble her last one. Her beautiful white flesh was pale, but not so light as it had been before the body had welcomed in her soul. That paleness suited her, her long hair an extraordinary color. Platinum that when viewed in the light, seemed to take on the vaguest of blue tints. 

She was on her knees, the skirt of the white gown he had dressed her body in, pooling around her legs. At first he didn't see her eyes. She was too overcome with shock, too grief stricken to do anything more than hunch over and cry. She wouldn't look up at him, until he allowed the door to slam shut behind him. And then he would watch as the shock gave way to recognition.

"YOU!" She managed to cry out, her voice angry but not yet over her earlier upset.

"Yes, me." He agreed, and smiled at her. That expression seemed to enrage her. With a wordless scream, she attempted to lurch up right. She wasn't yet steady on her feet, actually stumbling for her efforts. Lezard would move without thinking, coming close enough to put his arms around her. To trap her in his embrace. She wasn't grateful for his assistance, her hands shoving rudely at his chest. She gave him no command, and yet her dislike was obvious. She wanted him to let her go.

Instead he held her closer, inhaling her scent. She smelled of the soap and the shampoo he had bathed her in, her scent sweet like flowers. She continued to push at his chest, trying to escape his hold. He was so enamored with having her near, he almost missed the blood spotting on her hands. She was injured, and there was no doubt her hurt had occurred when she had set about to escaping from this room.

He wondered if she had split her delicate skin open by banging on the locked door. Or when scrambling to wrench aside the bars on the window. It wasn't a deep wound, and yet he felt angry just the same. How dare she injure the body he had given her! The body he had painstakingly labored on. Without a word, he was lifting her, carrying the equally upset woman over to the bed. 

She gasped when he sat her down on the edge, Lezard dropping to his knees. He held on to her right arm, eyes narrowing as he looked at the cuts on her hand's knuckles. "You have to be careful." He chided, his voice not losing the edge of anger to it. "You are mortal now, and can be hurt far easier." He knew no healing spells. That had never been an area of interest for him. He'd have to tend to her wounds the old fashion way.

She wasn't content to let him help her. Lezard would have to keep a brutal grip on her arm as he attempted to clean her cuts with some water. "How could you do it?" She asked as he tended to her wounds. "How could you...no...how DID you do it?!"

"A true wizard never gives up his tricks." He said teasingly. She was not amused, those angry eyes of hers narrowing into a glare. He almost sighed then, so affected by that look of hers. "Ah Lenneth..." Lezard ignored her insistence that he not speak so familiarly to her. "It was easy to replicate the circumstances of your previous transcension." It was actually a lie, Lezard having had to spend months preparing for this feat.

"Previous transcension?" She looked confused, losing her glare to frown at him instead. "What are you talking about?"

His eyebrows lifted, Lezard surprised. But he could see her confusion was real, Lenneth sincerely not knowing to what he referred to. And that made him angry, Lezard baring his teeth in a scowl. It shouldn't have surprised him that the others had kept the truth from her. They had been clearly threatened by him, by the things Lezard could do, and the power he wielded. But to let that fear and jealousy cloud their better judgment? To let it keep them from warning her about just how much Lezard was capable of? Sheer folly on their part, pure and simple. 

"Dear Goddess..." He watched her bristle at that endearment. "It is really quite simple. It was I who was responsible for your evolution. I who enabled you to transcend the limits of your divinity. I who not only saved your soul, but all of Creation through that saving. Everything that's happened, it was all thanks to me! Lezard Valeth." He smiled then, though his eyes didn't lose that hard edge of anger. He didn't expect Lenneth to fall into his arms in gratitude. That would have been too easy. But he hadn't expected her to slap him, feeble though her strike was. 

"You..." Her arm trembled just as violently as the rest of her. Lenneth glared at him, her mouth a pretty sneer. "You are the worst. A degenerate, sick, sadistic killer. You've run rampant for too long. You've violated the very laws of nature, ruined lives, and crushed dreams."

"I've also saved you." He reminded her, watching as she scoffed.

"And you expect me to be grateful? For that and for this?" She gestured at her new body, her disdain apparent for what he had done. "You truly are insane!" 

"Genius such as mine has often been considered that." He was nonchalant, hardly bothered by her insult. "It matters little in the end what word you apply to me. The fact remains, you are here. An accomplishment that no other has managed." A gloating smile crossed his lips. "Nor shall they ever." Lezard leaned into her, watching with amusement as Lenneth tried to shift away from him. "Love it, or hate it, the fact remains I have accomplished the impossible. And for that, I should be admired."

"You've stolen me from my home! Snatched me away from my very body! Impressed is the last thing I am!"

"You are still adjusting Lenneth." Lezard was unperturbed. "In time you will…"

"There is nothing!" Her words cut him off, Lenneth practically shouting over his voice. "Nothing you can say, nothing you can do, that would ever change how I feel. About what you have done, and about YOU!"

Lenneth followed those words up with another slap, as though she thought to impact their meaning into him with her strike. Lezard was slow in reacting to her slap, his expression calm as he blinked. He'd make no move to adjust his glasses, instead staring at her with unwavering determination. A lesser, more uncertain woman would have balked to be at the focal point of his attention. Lenneth just glared, as though she thought to cow him into giving up.

"Well, now." Lezard said at last, a positively evil smile on his face. "I will just have to prove how wrong you truly are about that." He didn't imagine the shiver that went through her, Lenneth's eyes widening as she realized he was actually relishing the challenge she offered him. He expected her to fight, to resist him with all her might. She wouldn't be the Goddess he so craved, if she went meekly to her fate. He'd enjoy her struggles, just as Lezard would enjoy watching her defeat, Lenneth succumbing to the pleasures he offered. And now looked the perfect time as any to get started.

 

To Be Continued…

Michelle


	2. Two

Lenneth can remember the fall, the sudden shattering of her senses as every nerve inside her body went haywire. The loss of control had frightened her in a way few other things ever had, Lenneth finding her vision blurring, her hearing losing it's sharpness so that the screams around her sounded more like faint whispers. As her vision blurred in and out of focus, occasionally she caught flickers of the worried expressions, and the panic in Lucian's eyes.

Lenneth hadn't been able to reassure him or herself, the Goddess struggling to remain upright. Her movements had been jerky, Lenneth teetering on the edge of the steps that led up to her throne's dais. Her body had been failing her, legs weakening, arms ineffectually flailing in an attempt to grab onto something, anything to keep her steady. Lucian had been rushing towards her, intent on lending her his support. He wouldn't make it in time, Lenneth going down, her body bouncing off the few short steps that led downwards.

She hadn't even been able to hear the gasps, or to see the shocked expressions on her gathered court's faces. She had already lost most feeling in her body, which cushioned her from the pain of hitting step after step on her way down. Lenneth had ended in an awkward heap at the bottom of the stair case, limbs twisted in a way that would have been supremely uncomfortable had she any feeling left to feel.

Her vision had continued to fail her, all senses deadened to the hurried approach of Lucian and those who cared about her the most. Lenneth had no idea what they had tried to do for her, how they had tried to rouse a response from her. Her breath had wheezed out of her, Lenneth unable to form words to speak. But then, what could she have said, other then a plea for help? A help they could not offer her, Lenneth laying there, sure she was dying.

But death would have been a joy compared to what had awaited her, the pain that had followed. Her very consciousness had narrowed down it's existence to her soul, a soul that was snapping free of that which tied it to the body she had inhabited. If she had still retained her voice, Lenneth would have screamed at the brutal way her soul tore free of the remaining bonds that tried desperately to keep it tethered in place. But there had been no stopping her soul's abduction, the force that battered at her soul a ruthless, determined entity. 

At that time, Lenneth hadn't known what was happening. Hadn't understood it. She hadn't even been able to fathom what had been the cause, too focused on the painful sensations that left her debilitated. Her soul cried out in agony, Lenneth's thoughts scattering. In that moment, she might have almost welcomed oblivion, if only to stop the pain that had coursed through her. 

She hadn't been able to see, to breathe, or to hear. The pain had been the one constant, even as she lost all functionality, her consciousness plunging into a dark abyss. There, there had been nothing but the raw hurt of a million wounds, each one more cutting than the last. How long had she lingered in that darkness, attempting to scream but unable to make a sound? A day? A month? An Eternity? Even a second had proved too much for her, and yet Lenneth had been unable to pass out. She continued to toil in misery, wailing in response to what had been happening.

The pain did not stop all at once. Just as abruptly as her body's collapse had been, suddenly air was forcefully going through her. She had actually choked on the sudden breaths, feeling discomfort in her chest as it had heaved in response to her panting. Her body had been so desperate for air, it hadn't been trying to exhale, doing one desperate inhale after another. It had left Lenneth panting, the desperate gasps of someone out of shape who had run a mile. 

For the longest time, Lenneth had just lain there, working to get her breathing under control. It hadn't distracted her from the pain she was feeling, a pain that had dampened in intensity, only to give way to pains of a new and different kind. Every nerve in her body was coming alive, bringing a burning with it. Her senses had slowly restored, vision and sound first coming back together as the ceiling above her had seemed to distort, it's glowing pattern swirling in a frenzied movement. Lenneth would actually close her eyes against that disorienting sight, then jolt upright in shock with the realization that she had had the ability to do such an action.

The change to her position had been a mistake, something Lenneth could only classify as nausea coming over her. Even as she had sat there, ill and uneasy, her soul worked to acclimatize itself to her body. To what she had thought was her body. It would take time before Lenneth had come to realize the sheer wrongness of the vessel she now inhabited, the pain making her dull-witted.

Lenneth would actually think she was still up in the heavens, the Goddess assuming she had been moved to a private room to recuperate from her fall. The truth would be devastating, revealed to her when she had again opened her eyes, Lenneth seeing the room was far too plain for anything created up in the heavens. A sinking feeling had hit her, as had dizziness, the room seeming to spin when she stood up on shaking legs. She had had to hold on to one of the bed posts, needing it's support to remain standing. Pain had continued to course through her, diminished though it was. It almost blocked out the sound of the voice screaming, and Lenneth had startled in reaction when she realized that voice belonged to HER.

Some short time after that realization, Lenneth had flown into a frenzy. Stumbling to the door, her legs had grown stronger with every step. Her hands had grabbed at the door's brass handle, pulling on it as violently as Lenneth had been able to manage. But the door had never moved, remaining locked against her. To find herself so effectively trapped, had riled Lenneth, something like panic had entered into her consciousness. That panic would only increase in intensity, Lenneth trying and failing to blow apart the door with her divine powers.

Powers that would not work for her, a loss she had refused to comprehend. Lenneth would dash about the room, attempting futilely to call upon her ether. Or use the divine strength that allowed her to thrust her sword through stone if need be. Her hands had banged on the door, had gripped and pulled the steel bars of the room's windows. She had trashed the room, flinging anything that wasn't bolted down or too heavy for her feeble arms to lift. When she had screamed that time, it had been in pure rage, Lenneth on a rampage. 

The rampage had lasted until the first drops of blood had appeared on her hands. That rich red color, so vibrant on her pale skin, had instantly rooted Lenneth to the spot. She had stared, watching as the blood continued to flow, droplets dripping to the floor. It shouldn't have been possible, her skin never so delicate as to break apart from such little exertion. As a divine being, there were few things that could cause injury to her body, and even less that could make her bleed. The blood spilling out of her? It had been the final clue needed to send her to her knees, Lenneth having let out a wail of pure horror.

That was how HE found her, Lenneth on the floor, head bowed as she had tried to understand and absorb the impact of that shocking knowledge. Mortal! She had been made mortal. She didn't know how such a thing was possible, had thought herself forever free of even the sovereign's rite's ability to cast aside her divinity. But this was different from the spell Odin had used on his valkyries, Lenneth alive and aware, and all too frail and mortal for her own liking.

She had still been trying to process the idea of her sudden mortality, with more worried thoughts than could possibly be good for her, when the door was slammed shut. Somehow, Lenneth had missed it's unlocking, not surprising given the shock she had been experiencing. A shock that would only magnify when she had seen the man responsible for the noise.

There had been no mistaking his identity, even with her panicked thoughts. A strong memory had come to her, that of the madman Lezard Valeth, who had lured Lenneth to his home, all on the pretext to draw out her very soul and stuff it into one of the many vessels he had created. Vessels she had destroyed, her very skin having crawled at the mere sight of them. They and the man had been abominations in her eyes, ones that she would not suffer the continued existence of. But though she had destroyed most of the bodies, the man himself had escaped. 

The rage she had felt back then was nothing compared to the anger festering inside her now. It swallowed up her fear and panic, allowing Lenneth to rise off the floor. She still wasn't used to sudden movements, as evidence by the ways her legs attempted to buckle. Instantly, the man's arms were around her, caging her in against him. Allowing him to freely take liberties he had no right to, the man sniffing at her hair. Though her hands hurt with a sharp pain caused by the open wounds on the backs of them, Lenneth struggled to get away. Pushing and squirming, her expression absolutely furious as she failed in that endeavor.

A reprieve from his embrace came when the man noticed the blood on her hands. Lenneth didn't miss the unexpected anger that spiked in his expression, fighting him as he lifted and carried her over to the bed. She'd continue her struggles, fighting one minute, trying to back away the next. His hand around her arm was like a vise, so strong in comparison to Lenneth. He would ignore her attempts to get away, his touch almost gentle as he set to cleaning her wounds. The words spoken as he tended to her injuries, held a chiding tone, but Lenneth barely paid mind to the meaning behind them. She just wanted answers, her tone demanding as she asked him the question most important to her.

Infuriating man that he was, he gave her no real explanation, only offering up words that led her to have a dozen more questions. Lenneth had no understanding, no knowledge of what her crude abductor referred to as a previous transcension of hers. Nor would she easily believe his claims that he had had a hand in her evolution from a minor deity, to the Goddess that had ruled over all Creation. And she certainly didn't appreciate his attempt to claim credit for the saving of the nine realms, though a voice whispered uncertainly to her that something HAD been responsible for her miraculous evolution. But she ignored that voice, stamping down her uncertainties to glare at him harder.

The realization that he expected her gratitude on top of everything else, proved too much for Lenneth. She'd actually slap him, insults and accusations being hurled towards him. Lezard was hardly bothered by what she had said, not even when she called him insane. But he wasn't just crazy, he was delusional as well, holding a world wealth of misconceptions about Lenneth and what her presence meant in his home.

"You are still adjusting...." The man purred at her. "In time you will...."

Lenneth couldn't tolerate any more of his gloating attempts to offer paltry reassurances. "There is nothing!" She shouted, her voice hoarse from all her earlier screaming. "Nothing you can say, nothing you can do, that would ever change how I feel. About what you have done, and about YOU!" So enraged was she, that Lenneth followed up that exclamation with as violent a slap as she could manage. She had the momentary satisfaction of seeing his head rocked to the side, his glasses knocked askew. She'd maintain her glare, even in the face of his eerie calmness, and the intent way he gazed back at her.

How long did they stay like that, locked into that unsettling staring contest? Lenneth had no real concept of time, the seconds ticking away before Lezard blinked. And slowly, his face was transformed, a positively evil smile gracing his lips. It made her shiver, as did the words he spoke, Lezard promising to prove to her how wrong she truly was about that. She didn't mistake the threat in his voice, the way he positively relished the idea. But she didn't ask him what he meant by that, instead trying to jerk her arm free of his grasp. Unthinkable, but his grip tightened even more, leaving Lenneth with no doubt her skin would be bear the bruised imprints of his fingers. 

She continued to fight against that hurting grip, refusing to be drawn any closer to him. Lezard was rising off his knees, looming over her with eyes gleaming with predatory intent. His smile was cruel, his expression promising a danger she did not want to consider. A dozen thoughts erupted at once in her mind, she could barely make sense of them all, Lenneth trying to calm herself enough to think clearly. But the knowledge that she was mortal now, her strength and powers stripped from her, leaving her weak against this madman left her reeling. Lenneth didn't like how helpless she was feeling, or the fear that was pervading it's way through her. But she wouldn't scream. Not by choice, and certainly not to give him even more of a sense of twisted satisfaction where Lenneth was concerned. 

Only one hand held onto her, the other extending towards her face. His expression took on a drowsy, hooded look, his fingers grazing her cheek. That was all the touch Lenneth allowed, the Goddess lashing out to slap Lezard a third time. It was enough of a blow to knock his glasses clean off his face, the spectacles landing with a muted thump on the carpeted floor. Lezard's expression didn't turn shocked, nor did it lose that cruel smile. It wasn't just that the attack had been expected, he had welcomed it, amethyst colored eyes darkening with desire.

Her stomach churned with the unease brought on by the realization that Lezard wouldn't mind if she fought him. Wouldn't mind because the very act of her defiance seemed to arouse him further. Lenneth let out an unhappy hiss, trapped, her every action seemingly destined to do noting more than provoke this lunatic towards further depravity. And yet she couldn't accept what he intended to do! Meek wasn't a word she applied to herself, Lenneth hardly a docile woman. She was a born fighter, used to leading armies and strategizing for wars.

Lenneth would use that knack for strategy now, stilling against Lezard. She knew he was smart, but would his excitement be enough to blind him to what she was about to attempt? Only one way to find out, Lenneth turning her face to the side as Lezard attempted to kiss her. His lips instead grazed over her cheek, Lenneth biting back her disgust. She would endure the feel of his lips working over her skin, greedy little kisses following a path to her ear. 

"Lenneth..." She hated how he purred her given name, the way Lezard spoke as if he knew her. Most of all, she hated the way he tongued at her ear, licking one moment, then nibbling the next. "Ah Lenneth....don't tell me you are giving in so soon....?"

She wasn't, simply trying to get him to relax his guard and his hold on her. But whatever his feelings were on her sudden compliance, he wasn't ready to trust her completely. The hand that had tried to touch her cheek now wound it's fingers into her hair, using it to control her head's movements. He held her still, purposefully gazing into her eyes as he drew in close toward her lips. He was watching for her reaction, or perhaps some sign of the type of response she would give him. Lenneth kept just the right amount of anger and alarm in her expression, jaw clenching the instant his lips caressed over hers. She wanted to bite him, wanted to savage the tongue that dared lick lazily over her bottom lip. Instead she merely made a sound, not of disgust but of distress, allowing her facial features to crumple in pain.

Lezard didn't immediately pull back. What he thought of the sound she had made, Lenneth did not know, but it sickened her to so much as whimper for his enjoyment. Her free hand touched his chest, Lenneth pushing lightly against him. Making a pretense of trying to shove him away, even as she made the sound again. With a laugh, Lezard pulled back. Lenneth moaned this time, pain in her voice as well as on her face. It was enough of a message to Lezard, that he grew concerned enough to wonder about it's cause.

"What's wrong Lenneth?" Lezard asked, fingers loosening their hold on her hair. "Does my kiss affect you so?"

His kiss was enough to both sicken and infuriate her, but for now she merely twisted away from him. Crying out and hunching over, great shudders shaking her body. To any observers she would appear to be in great pain, Lenneth gasping, her moans loud enough to mimic the wailing she had done earlier. 

"Lenneth...?" He maintained that concerned tone, along with the painful grip on her arm. "What's wrong?" 

"H...hurts..." She made a show of just barely being able to speak, even as she leaned away, her free arm hugged close to her front. "Feels like I, like my soul is being torn apart...."

"Does it now..." He sounded more intrigued than anything, Lezard's grip relaxing. "Tell me Lenneth....does soul transfusion hurt?"

"More than I thought myself capable of bearing..." Lenneth answered truthfully, still bent over with her face turned away from him. 

"Interesting..." Came Lezard's answer. "But I suppose if souls can be given forms to fight in the Gods' wars, then souls can hurt enough to feel pain."

Lenneth frowned. She didn't expect Lezard to really care about her supposed pain, but she hadn't expected him to just sit there and turn analytical! Glad he couldn't see her face, she ground her teeth together before letting out another pain filled moan. It was an easy sound to make, when she recalled the pain she had endured since this whole nightmare had first started.

"Ah...." She let herself slide off the bed, Lenneth landing on her knees on the floor. She'd shake as though she was having convulsions, starting to scream louder. "Feels like I am dying!"

Now THAT got Lezard's attention, the man shifting closer to her. His hands would attempt to touch her shoulders, Lezard bending over her from behind. Lenneth would latch on to one of his wrists, using her other arm to jab her elbow into his stomach. He wasn't a man that wore armor, the mage preferring fine fabrics. The expensive finery offered little in the way of protection, Lenneth using all the force she could muster to knock the wind out of Lezard. 

She heard the surprised sound he made, the way he seemed to gag on his own breath. Elbow still planted in his waist, Lenneth pulled on the wrist she held captive, attempting to throw Lezard over her shoulder. But try as she might, his weight proved too much for her frail mortal strength. She felt his hands tense on her shoulder, Lenneth snapping back to smash her head into Lezard's face.

An oath followed that action, Lenneth scrambling free. She half staggered to her feet, turning at the same instant Lezard grabbed at the back of her dress. Fabric tore, but Lenneth didn't care, kicking out in a rise of skirts, to lash her foot just short of Lezard's jaw. It wasn't just her divine strength that was gone, her speed had lessened. But though Lezard had stolen her divinity from her, he hadn't been able to seal away her warrior's heart, or the millennia of knowledge she had accumulated where fighting was concerned. 

Making fists, Lenneth prepared to pummel Lezard. She would have felt better to have a sword, or any other weapon in her hand, but at the moment she only had her body. A body that wasn't used to such vigorous activity, given the way she was breathing from exertion. She couldn't wonder what sort of women he had killed to make this vessel for her, not when she had to make her move, and use the chance offered to her. She swung her fist at Lezard's face, intent on breaking his nose, when his hand grabbed onto her wrist. Gasping, she didn't try to jerk away. Instead Lenneth brought her other fist to bear on Lezard, almost screaming in rage when that wrist was caught too.

Expression absolutely furious, Lenneth attempted to bring her knee up. She wasn't even sure how Lezard evaded that attack, their legs becoming entangled. The fall Lezard had them do was purposeful, Lenneth hitting the carpeted floor with jarring force. Before she could even recover from the impact, Lezard was flipping her onto her stomach. Both her arms were twisted behind her, and held in place against the small of her back. Lenneth having to wrench her head to the side in order to breathe before attempting to buck free of Lezard's hold. 

He merely pressed his full weight down on her, easily preventing her from knocking him off. Lenneth still tried, giving way to sheer panic when she felt his erection pressing against her. It's hard length was proof enough of how much Lezard was enjoying her struggles, but Lenneth couldn't stop. She'd keep on fighting, even as her breath wheezed out of her, her arms hurting, and her body growing exhausted from a battle that seemed unwinnable. 

In the end, Lenneth could do nothing more than slump against the floor, head bowed in defeat. Her breath sounded too loud even to her own ears, and Lenneth couldn't muster the energy to do more than snarl when she felt the silk being tied around her wrists. It was a secure tie, the silk restraint keeping her hands bound behind her back. She gave fitful jerks of her arms once Lezard rolled off her, but for all the effect her actions had on the restraint, it might as well have been for show. 

Effectively bound by him, Lenneth struggled onto her back. Lezard was entirely too close, watching her with an odd smile. His shirt was open, Lenneth realizing the thing he has used to tie her had been the cravat around his neck. That despicable man would continue to loosen his shirt's buttons, all the while gazing on her with an ever increasingly hungry look. Her stomach turned at the lecherous way he looked at her, and the knowledge that there was nothing she could do to stop him from taking things further. She continued to struggle against the silk restraints, even as Lezard's mouth parted to let out a wicked trill of laughter. Shivers went through Lenneth at that sound, but she never once stopped trying to break free of the ties. Not even when Lezard picked her up off the floor and placed her back on the bed. She simply couldn't accept that she had been so thoroughly defeated, Lenneth glaring at him as she fought against the restraints. 

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To Be Continued....

Michelle


	3. Three

Lezard couldn't remember a time he had felt as alive as he did now. His blood stirred, his breath coming faster, his every sense attuned to the woman on his bed. To the Goddess bound before him. She was beautiful, her blue eyes expressive and showing her unrestrained fury. He loved that look on her face, the anger she directed his way. It made him shiver in delight, his body reacting. Such was the power Lenneth held over him, that she hadn't needed to touch him, and already he was hard for her.

It should have been alarming. To have so little control over his own body's responses? Any other woman and Lezard would have been mortified. Even angry. But with Lenneth, he took it in stride, actually wearing his arousal as a mark of pride. Already he had flaunted the state of his body to her. When they had been on the floor, his weight bearing down on her, Lezard had made no attempt to hide how excited he was by her. Lenneth hadn't had the typical response of a maiden who faced ravishment, instead continuing her struggles. He expected no less from her, knowing it would have been a disappointment if she had simply given up and stopped struggling against him.

His cheek still bore the faint sting of pain from her earlier slaps, Lenneth vicious and violent. Even rendered weak and mortal, she still retained her courage, her fighter's spirit. Pity for her, the vessel he had engineered for her soul's occupancy, wasn't a body known for it's strength. Slender and delicate, he had pieced together this latest host from women who had only known a life of luxury. Even the elf he had kidnapped, had been nothing more than a priestess, instead of one of the many warriors that guarded the forest of spirits.

The women he had used, the women he had sacrificed, were all ladies of the nobility. Gentle women who had never known a true hard day's work, renowned for their beauty, and all too susceptible to a charmer's flattery. It hadn't mattered what their personality's were like, whether they were kind in nature, or vile beasts. He had seduced and led them astray, stealing their very lives from them as they went almost eagerly into his trap. 

He felt not a single remorse for the women he had ruined, the lives he had ended. Lezard deemed them all necessary sacrifices, their blood spilt in the name of love. His love. That the love in question wasn't returned wasn't of any consequence to Lezard. He'd make Lenneth love him, and if not that, he'd at least content himself with the bodily aspects her mortality now offered him.

He couldn't contain the laugh that escaped him, it's sound sheer wicked amusement. Satisfaction was thrumming through him. It had been present ever since he had entered the room, and gazed into her face. One look into her eyes had been enough to assure him that it was Lenneth who occupied the vessel. No other woman, mortal or otherwise, was capable of eliciting such a response within him from her glare alone. Even if Lenneth had tried to pretend to be someone else, Lezard would have known her, would have recognized her soul through her eyes alone.

Even better, there had been instant recognition on her part. She had remembered him, a remembering he had had no guarantee of. But one look at her face, at the angry expression that couldn't quite chase away Lenneth's pain and panic, and Lezard had known. Their first encounter had been as memorable to Lenneth, as it had been to Lezard. She may not have been flattered by what he had been attempting that time, but she had been unable to forget him.

That suited Lezard just perfectly, for he had been unable to forget Lenneth. Ever since that first glimpsing of her, that ethereal loveliness had been seared into his mind. The Valkyrie Goddess had very nearly haunted his every waking thought, and sleep had offered no respite from her. Lezard had been thoroughly enchanted by her, affected in a way he had never felt for by any other woman, mortal or otherwise. It wasn't just Lenneth's otherworldly beauty that had captivated him so. It had been the complete package, that fierce determination, her unwavering loyalty, her fighting spirit. Even once he had witnessed her woman's weakness, it hadn't ended the obsession for him. 

If anything, the sight of the Valkyrie on her knees, her fingers scrabbling frantically at hardened earth while she fought and failed to keep from wailing another man's name, had only made Lezard want her more. Ignored as he had been during that time in the weeping lilies meadow, Lezard had seen a side to the Goddess he suspected few others had ever seen. He had born witness to her tears, to her pain as her heart seemed to break. Lezard had found Lenneth just as delicious in her moment of despair as he did when she was directing her most haughty of displeased glares his way.

He valued those sides of her. What's more, he wanted to see and keep her every expression, to experience her every emotion. That moment amongst the weeping lilies had led Lezard to realize Lenneth was capable of great emotion. She wasn't the unfeeling Goddess he had first become infatuated with. She was something remarkably more, and all because she cared, more than the other deities had ever even pretended to feel. That made Lenneth unique, even among her own kind. A one of a kind entity, that Lezard alone would possess. 

He was already part way there, Lenneth in his home, and bound on his bed. Exciting as that was, it wasn't enough for him. Lezard wanted, needed her to understand. Needed Lenneth to realize just who she belonged to, body and soul. Her reactions, her emotions, even hopefully her heart, were all his treasures to savor. And there was nothing Lenneth could do, to keep Lezard from enjoying everything about her. Even her anger had merits, her violence against him stirring in Lezard masochistic tendencies. Though he hated to lose, being hit had never felt as good as when it had been Lenneth's hand that had dealt the blow. 

It was almost a shame to have to tie her up. But Lenneth had already demonstrated a capacity to hurt herself, as evidenced by the blood on the backs of her hands. And as enjoyable as it had been to be slapped by her, Lezard did not want to spend the night fighting. Not when there were other, far more pleasurable things to be had. His smile, which was more smirk than anything, became more pronounced as he finished loosening the cuffs of his sleeves. Lezard's shirt hung open, exposing a chest that was almost as pale as Lenneth's skin. He didn't pretend to think the pale ivory looked anywhere as fetching on him as it did on Lenneth, her eyes and hair's coloring far more suited to that perfect white than his own.

The gown he had dressed her in, left her shoulders bare. Already it slipped in a haphazardness fashion, easing down just enough to reveal one perfect pink nipple. Lenneth seemed unaware of that fact, or of how her dress continued to shift with her movements. What had originally been as form fitting as a second skin over her waist and breasts, was loosened now, all thanks to the fabric he had torn when attempting to grab hold of an evasive Lenneth. She had slipped his grasp then, but only for a moment, her dress now on it's way to ruin and offering up those tempting flashes of skin.

It was amazing, really it was. He had seen the body Lenneth now inhabited a hundred times or more. In all manner of states, dressed and undressed, even in half completed forms. His own hands had molded and shaped that flesh, had paid special care to the forming of her breasts. He had carefully seen to every strand of hair, had touched and examined every inch of her, looking for the slightest of imperfections. He knew her inside and out, and yet now he felt as though he was dealing with the unfamiliar. All due to the changes that took the body from being a cold, lifeless doll, to a flesh and blood woman. The only woman worthy of his attentions, the only woman fit to receive his love and admiration. 

Of the dozens upon dozens of women had had lured, seduced, outright abducted, none of them could compare. Even those that had shared features with Lenneth, had supplied parts to the creation of this vessel, were otherwise lacking. They had lacked Lenneth's soul, her spirit, her personality. It was the very essence that made Lenneth who she was, that drew in Lezard now, that animated the vessel, and led him to become aroused by it.

"Don't come near me!"

Lezard blinked, wondering when he had moved. He had been deep in analytical thought, marveling at the difference a soul made in increasing the attractiveness of an individual's body. The science of it intrigued him, but nowhere near as much as this woman did. Even as his mind fussed over details, his body had been drawn to hers. Instinctively moving, hand extended so that his fingers could graze against her shoulder. Ever glaring, Lenneth was attempting an awkward crawl backwards, not wanting to endure even the most innocent of touches from him.

Not that anything he did towards her or for her was innocent. He was a mass murderer, killing hundreds to craft vessel after vessel to contain her. He was a kidnapper and a thief, stealing her from the heavens, from Creation itself. He had blasphemed against her, stripping Lenneth of her divinity in order to render her into a form more easily controlled. A form that would be easy to subdue, and use for his own fervent desires.

He was anything but remorseful, giving her a predatory look as he advanced the rest of the way towards her. The large mattress sank under his hands and knees, Lezard crawling after Lenneth. Her back would hit the oak headboard, Lenneth attempting to lunge to the side. Lezard's arm shot out, hand slamming into the headboard as he blocked Lenneth's way. A defiant look was directed towards him, her brilliant blue eyes blazing with anger. Lezard couldn't take it anymore, both of his hands grabbing at her shoulders.

The soft, satin feel of her skin almost tore a moan from his lips. His breath quickened in excitement, rasping out of him with a throaty sound. Wanting to savor this moment, to savor the feel of her warm skin, he rubbed his hands up and down the length of her arms. Lenneth hissed back at him, twisting about as though to shake free of his grip.

"Do not touch me!" 

Such a commanding tone! As though she still clung to the ideas that she had any power to wield and stop what was going to happen. But he wouldn't have it any other way, preferring this to a Goddess that whimpered in defeat. He instinctively knew Lenneth wouldn't do that, that Lenneth would fight to the last, refusing to go peacefully into her body's surrender. Try as she might to fight him, her body would succumb, eagerly accepting the attention he offered. 

"Get your filthy hands off of me!" Lenneth all but snarled. He only caught glimpses of her eyes, her head shaking just as violently as her body thrashed. Her hair which he had left unbound, moved with her, at times whole hanks of it obscuring her face. He'd reach for it now, taking a firm, unrelenting grip on those silken strands. A cruel jerk stilled Lenneth's movements, Lezard using fingers to brush back the wild strands that covered her eyes.

He smiled at the unrestrained fury in her gaze, almost purring in contentment. That was exactly the expression he wanted to see, Lenneth's anger only goading his desire onwards. Her eyes narrowed as he leaned in towards her, the only warning he got before Lenneth lurched forward, teeth snapping in an attempt to savage his lips. He retained his grip on her hair, Lezard jerking out of reach, a laugh hissing out of him. The fact that Lenneth had tried to bite him, was neither surprising nor unexpected. Lezard jerked on her hair, his hand a controlling presence that forced her head to obey. Tension coiled through her, her body ceasing it's thrashing as she glared. He wasn't fool enough to try and kiss her deeply. She'd take off his tongue and smile while she did it.

Nor could Lezard resist from pressing a quick, downright chaste kiss on her lips. They both trembled in response to it, Lenneth angry, upset, while Lezard was a maelstrom of desires. Those desires were a constant thrumming in his head, making demands of him, and of Lenneth. For the most part Lezard ignored them, not wanting to fall so completely towards ravishing Lenneth like some unthinking beast. To give in so completely to his desires would gain him nothing where Lenneth's heart was concerned, nor would his victory over her be any sweeter. He needed to take his time, to thoroughly woo and pleasure her.

Still holding onto her hair, Lezard rubbed his cheek against hers. Lenneth's breath hissed out of her, and an instant later, she was attempting to jerk away. She couldn't though, his hand restraining her by her hair. He rubbed again, enjoying the satin feel of her warm skin against his. The hand that was not in her hair, touched her shoulder, his finger bringing up goose bumps everywhere he caressed.

He wanted to kiss her so badly, to taste the honeyed warmth of her mouth. But always he was aware that Lenneth had not been tamed, the Goddess a caged and wild entity that would lash out at any opportunity Lezard gave her. Sick masochist that he was, even Lezard did not want any part of him bitten off by her, though he could admit to feeling a perverse shiver at the thought of a gentler bite being delivered lovingly by Lenneth. To feel her teeth nipping at his shoulder as she attempted to muffle her cries, her nails digging into his back as she clung to him? He nearly moaned, aroused and bereft, mourning that it was not to be. 

At least not yet. In time, after a thorough devoting of his attention to her, and the manipulations of her emotions, who was to say Lenneth might not come to accept him? To enjoy more than just the bodily pleasure he offered her? To maybe even love him? Eternity was a long time to go on hating, and the acts he would commit against her were known for fostering a closeness between people.

Known for it's intimacy and binding qualities, sex would tie them together. It wouldn't be instantaneous. It would take repeated attempts, long hours of intense love making. How long exactly depended on Lenneth, on her ability to resist him. But Lezard was a very patient man. He'd wait out eternity if need be. And in the meantime, he'd enjoy pleasuring her senseless.

Shifting slightly, he pressed his lips against her cheek, using his tongue to taste her there. She made a cry of revulsion as his tongue pressed and dragged over her skin, Lenneth again trying to jerk away. If her hands would have been free, she would not only have shoved him away, she would have struck him. Chuckling lightly into her ear, Lezard traced over it's curve with his tongue. 

"Stop it." Lenneth hissed, shaking with anger. 

"It's too late to stop." Lezard expelled a breath against her ear. "It's been too late long before you awakened here in my home. Perhaps it was too late from the moment I first saw you..." That moment had led to an awakening, Lezard realizing to love Lenneth was his DESTINY, his very reason for living. She was the key to his completion, the motivation for nearly everything. 

"I will kill you." She stated this as fact, but Lezard hardly felt threatened. He told her as much, laughter in his tone as he asked.

"What can you do now? Weak mortal that you've become...."

Her displeasure was practically a tangible thing, Lenneth stiffening in place. She didn't lose any of her tension, even when he playfully nipped at the lobe of her ear. "Strength is not measured by the body alone." Lenneth said at last. "It's matched by will, by desire and character...."

"Then it will be interesting to pit our desires against one another." Lezard told her, and kissed down from her ear to her neck. "To see which is stronger. Your hate for me, or my love for you."

"Love?" Lenneth made a scoffing sound then. "You don't love me. Do not even pretend to feel that emotion, not when you lack a real understanding of it."

"If not love, then what?" Lezard demanded, looking up from her neck. "What are these feelings I have, this need to hold and posses you?"

"It is sickness true and true. You have an unhealthy fixation on me. I'd almost swear Hel's taint was upon you, but this evil is all of your own."

"Evil?" His brow lifted, Lezard giving her an amused look. "Because I do what I must to gain you? To prove myself worthy of you?"

"Worthy?! You've killed countless people. The gods alone don't know how many women you've slain in an attempt to make the perfect vessel to house my soul! Your crimes against nature, against humanity, are numerous, and for that alone you deserve to die!"

"If not for my crimes, the very world you seek to protect, would have been destroyed!" Anger had leaked into his voice, his own gaze narrowing into a glare. "Those same bodies you disdain, the research you attempted to destroy? It was what saved you, and enabled you to save and restore Creation!"

"What are you talking about?!" Lenneth demanded. "How dare you try to take credit for that!"

"I dare because it is the truth!" Lezard hissed. "Your ignorance does not change that, or the fact that you owe me a plethora of gratitude."

"Gratitude?!" She sputtered, but he was ruthlessly continuing.

"I can excuse many things, but what I can't ignore is how you didn't even try to find out what really happened that night in the meadow of the weeping lilies!" His anger was born over his many disappointments that had resulted from Lenneth's failure to reward him for his heroics. And the lonely nights that had followed, Lezard waiting in vain for a grateful goddess that never had so much as one word of thanks for him.

"What really happened...." Lenneth repeated, a kind of uncertainty flashing in her eyes. Lezard had always known she hadn't been aware of him that night, but nothing excused her for willfully refusing to ask answers from those that had traveled with her, those who had worked with Lezard to gain back Lenneth's soul and divine essence. Both those things had been needed to infuse the one body he had had left, to not only restore Lenneth to life, but to allow her to evolve into a Goddess that was greater than she had once been.

"I saved you." He insisted. "With a body I crafted with my own hands, a body I killed to make, I fused together your soul and divinity to it. It's what restored you after the Dark Valkyrie cast you out of your previous body."

"No..." Her confused look had bled away to pure horror, Lenneth shaking her head in denial.

"The body you have been walking around in for these last six months?" His smile was a twisted, angry thing, a manifestation of his hurt and her previous rejections. "It is one of the same bodies you disdained as an abomination!" Again she shook her head, Lezard grabbing her by the arms. "You OWE me Lenneth. And it's high time I collected on that debt!"

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To Be Continued....

Michelle


End file.
